


Hand Wash Only (and Hang to Dry)

by thecheekydragon



Series: Intimate Apparel [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek can be an Asshole, Derek is a creeper, M/M, Masturbation, POV Derek, Stiles over-thinks things, The Sheriff has a shotgun, delicates, hand wash only, handjob, hang to dry, purple panties, some kind of werewolf kink, train wreck of the lingerie variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecheekydragon/pseuds/thecheekydragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek wants to see Stiles in those purple panties.  But, of course, nothing with Stiles was ever easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand Wash Only (and Hang to Dry)

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [Apres Nuit](http://archiveofourown.org/works/636009) and [Never Look a Gift Pair of Panties in the Crotch](http://archiveofourown.org/works/670728)
> 
> This one's from Derek's POV ;)

**

Derek jarred the window up, hopped over the sill and tumbled gracefully into Stiles’ bedroom.

Stiles hadn’t come up yet but Derek knew the teen was home. The jeep was in the driveway. So was the patrol car which meant that the sheriff was home also. Which was why Derek had come through the window. No need to call attention to himself, especially with Stiles’ dad around.

He had waited nearly a week since the lingerie shop ‘incident’ (Derek didn’t know whether to call his uncharacteristically spontaneous behaviour that resulted in him buying a pair of silk panties for Stiles an ‘incident’ or some kind of total madness) before coming around to see Stiles. Just long enough for the teen to over-think things and let them nag at him. And knowing Stiles, whose brain worked like a hamster running frantically on a wheel, the nag had likely festered ten-fold at this point. So Derek figured now was the time to pay Stiles a visit. Because Derek could be an asshole like that.

Derek sat on the edge of Stiles’ bed, leaning back on his palms to wait. He ran his eyes in quick inventory around the room, looking for a hint of purple, but saw nothing telling. Stiles’ macbook was open but in sleep mode and Derek contemplated browsing the kid’s computer to see what Stiles had been up to but decided it would probably be too much of a breach of privacy to do so. He wasn’t _that_ much of an asshole.

So he just lounged on the bed and waited. It was at least fifteen minutes (in retrospect, he should have grabbed a book from Stiles’ shelf because waiting required patience and neither had ever been Derek’s strong points) before he heard Stiles’ bounding up the stairs (yeah, two at time) on route to his bedroom.

The door swung open. Stiles immediately startled upon seeing Derek (that never got old), jerking back and flailing. He got a hold of himself in just under twenty seconds, pushed the door closed then clapped a hand over his heart.

“Dude, could you be less of a _creeper_ and, like, maybe use the _front door_?”

Derek’s brows shot up. “I’m sure ringing the doorbell wouldn’t give your dad a reason to get out the shotgun or anything,” he said dryly.

Stiles smirked at him and Derek felt his eyes rolling. “Yeah. Because you coming in through my window like a creepy creeper and giving me a _heart attack_ is not going to raise any shotgun-grabbing alarm bells.”

“Stiles, he isn’t going to know I’m--” Derek started to argue but he stopped abruptly when he heard footfalls on the landing – Stiles’ dad. Derek barely had time to jump up from the bed and to press himself unseen against the wall near the closet before the door to Stiles’ bedroom opened and the sheriff popped his head in.

“Son, can I ask that you _please_ not leave your underwear in the bathroom?”

Derek’s eyebrows were already raising with interest.

Stiles’ eyes went wide. He scratched the back of his neck and Derek watched as a pink blush settled on his cheekbones. “Pfft,” he said, gesture flailing in that awkward Stiles way that Derek absolutely did not find adorable. At all. “They’re _delicates_ , Dad. The label says _hand wash only_ and _hang to dry_.”

“Okay. But there’s no reason you can’t hang them _in your own room_ ,” the sheriff told him, tossing a bundle of silk at Stiles.

He closed the door, leaving Stiles with his mouth hanging open, spluttering.

It was Derek’s turn to smirk.

He flicked a glance at the bundle Stiles was clutching in his hands. There were the silk panties. Derek quirked an eyebrow at the matching camisole.

“Lydia,” Stiles said with a shrug.

Derek waited a couple of beats. Then, 

“Put them on.”

“What? Wait. No. No, no, no, no, no.”

Derek huffed a sigh. “I want to see them,” he said, doing his best to pretend he didn’t sound like a petulant five year old. 

Stiles held up the panties and camisole. 

“On.”

Stiles rolled his eyes then thrust the silk undergarments into Derek’s hand. “Go ahead and knock yourself out, big guy.”

Derek thrust them back. “On _you_ ,” he clarified.

Stiles blinked, his mouth gaping. This did nothing to decrease Derek’s need to see Stiles in those panties and camisole _right the fuck now_.

“Is this some kind of werewolf kink?” Stiles asked. “Have the awkward, flailing boy put on silk underwear?”

“Just--” Derek’s patience had pretty much run the gamut. “Put. Them. On.”

Stiles goggled then huffed, letting his jaw drop. Derek crossed his arms against his chest, intending to wait Stiles out. He knew where this was going. Derek watched as Stiles narrowed his eyes and clamped his mouth shut. The teen pursed then twisted his lips, his tongue poking into the side of his cheek. He rolled his head to the side, casting a quick glance at Derek then darting his eyes down to the floor. “Fine,” he mumbled.

Derek held back a grin. As far as responses to Derek’s demands went, this one was classic Stiles, what Derek liked to call (secretly, of course) the Stiles Stilinski I-and-A combo: Indignation followed by Acquiescence. And the thing of it was, Derek really didn’t even have to try very hard to get Stiles to cave in.

He settled on Stiles’ bed once more.

“You could, like, turn around,” Stiles said, waving a hand at Derek. “You know, give a guy some privacy?”

Derek smirked, leaning back on his palms on the mattress.

“Yeah, or not,” Stiles grumbled. He set the silk wear on his desk then removed the plaid outer shirt and lifted off his t-shirt. He popped the button on his jeans and shucked out of those as well.

Derek’s attention was completely captured now.

Stiles left his boxers on and went straight for the camisole first. He stretched his arms up and slid the silk top over to glide it down over his chest. Somewhere along the way, however, Stiles’ elbow jutted out and got caught in the camisole, which Stiles proceeded to make worse by jerking and flailing.

Derek frowned and blinked. It was like watching a train wreck.

Stiles valiantly battled the silk (Derek may have heard fabric ripping) for at least a full minute before finally giving up. “A little help here?” he mumbled through the tangle of silk.

Derek was really tempted to let Stiles battle it out some more (it was that gawker’s thing) but decided it would be less painful for the both of them if he just helped the kid out.

“Stop moving,” he told Stiles as he attempted to straighten the kid’s elbow to free him from the camisole.

“’m not,” came the muffled reply.

“You’re wiggling.”

“Wiggling?”

“Squirming,” Derek said. “Stop.”

Stiles wiggled and squirmed some more. “I thought that was the point,” he said, as Derek tried to work the camisole top free of Stiles’ wayward limbs. “To get it _off_.” A few more determined tugs by Derek and some more wiggling from Stiles (the image of which Derek absolutely did not store away for later) and the camisole was finally wrestled free.

Stiles puffed out a sigh of relief. “Thank fuck,” he expressed. “I thought I was gonna be stuck in silk hell forever.”

Derek stared at Stiles. His short hair was sticking up at odd angles and his face was flushed a rosy pink from all the struggling. Derek couldn’t help but think that it was like a sex flush without (obviously) the sex.

“How are you so bad at this?” Derek said, mostly to try and distract himself from getting even more hot and bothered by Stiles looking practically _debauched_ with his messed hair and non-sex sex flush. 

Stiles huffed. “Excuse me, Mr. Put-On-The-Lingerie-Now-Stiles.” He snorted. “It’s not my fault I’m bad at this. Stiles hasn’t exactly put on the lingerie before now.”

Really? “You’ve had these for a week,” Derek pointed out. “And you’ve been hanging them to dry in the bathroom.”

“So? It doesn’t mean I’ve put them on, dude.” Derek gave him a questioning look. “I, uh,” Stiles continued, the flush deepening and – wow – Derek was really getting hot and bothered now, “use them in, um, other ways.”

Derek quirked an eyebrow. “Show me.” 

“What? No--”

“ _Show me_.”

The Indignation part of Stiles’ response lasted all of one second before it moved to the Acquiescence part. Derek found himself being pushed backward towards the bed by a bold, boxer-wearing Stiles. He shoved at Derek’s chest to coax him to sit down on the bed and then, to Derek’s surprise, Stiles promptly straddled him. This got Derek’s attention. Stiles seemed confident and determined, showing no awkwardness now. Well, maybe a little since he almost fell off Derek’s lap twice but for Stiles this was as close to being not-awkward as he would probably ever get.

Stiles pushed Derek’s leather jacket off from his shoulders and licked his lips. 

Oh God. Derek really had not thought this through.

He certainly was not prepared when Stiles pushed him onto his back on the bed, pressing his hips down in a rolling grind against Derek’s beginning erection. _Fuck_. He popped the button on Derek’s jeans and then helped Derek shimmy out of them by pulling them down and off. Derek shuffled up the bed, parting his thighs so that Stiles could kneel on the bed between them. His mind went blank when Stiles hooked a finger under the waistband of his boxer briefs and pulled them down, freeing Derek’s cock which was already half-hard and getting harder by the second. 

He barely had time to even register what was happening when he felt the glide of soft and supple silk against his member. Stiles had the panties stretched between thumb and finger of both hands and was sliding it up and down his shaft in a seductive rhythm. 

Oh. God. 

“ _Oh _, that’s nice,” Derek moaned.__

__“Right?” Stiles said with a grin._ _

__Stiles now palmed the panties in one hand and continued to slide the silk along Derek’s length, applying faint pressure with his fingertips. Derek lolled his head back onto Stiles’ pillow and let the pleasure waves wash over him. He thought about Stiles gliding the panties – the ones _Derek had bought him_ – over his own dick, pleasuring himself, and had to take deep breaths in and out to keep himself from toppling over the edge too soon._ _

__Then Stiles added his tongue and mouth to the mix – tongue swirling over the tip and mouth sucking the head in - and Derek lost it. Stiles had a hand down his own boxers and was jerking frantically. Derek erupted and Stiles quickly followed, spilling warm onto the hand wrapped around Derek’s still spurting cock._ _

__When Derek’s eyes rolled back to their normal position, he glanced down his body to take in the mess between them. The silk panties were soaked through with their collective spunk. And while that should have been more ‘eww’ than ‘hnng’, Derek found himself mentally filing it under ‘hottest thing ever’._ _

__“You’re washing them,” Stiles told him, shoving the spunk-soaked panties into Derek’s sternum before face planting onto the bed beside him. “Hand wash,” Stiles mumbled to remind._ _

__As soon as Derek thought he could stand without his knees buckling, he rolled off the bed, slipped his jeans back on, and then took the panties into the bathroom in the hall. He filled the sink with warm water, poured in a good measure of the Woolite for Delicates liquid detergent he found sitting on the counter (and wasn’t that telling), then proceeded to soak and rub the silk clean. He rinsed the underwear under warm water then gently rung them out._ _

__He was coming out of the bathroom, wet panties in hand, when he ran into Sheriff Stilinski. Stiles’ dad looked at the purple silk in Derek’s hand then jerked a glance at Derek, one eyebrow raised._ _

__“I’m not even going to ask,” the sheriff said._ _

__“Good call,” Derek replied with a nod. He moved around the sheriff, intending to make a quick retreat._ _

__The sheriff seemed inclined to let him go. But before Derek could escape into the sanctuary of Stiles’ bedroom, the sheriff raised a hand, stopping him. “Oh, and Derek?” he said casually but Derek could hear the underlining tone that suggested that the sheriff was intending to be anything but casual. “You might want to come through the front door next time. I promise I won’t get out my shotgun.” He flicked a glance at the panties again then moved his eyes to Stiles’ bedroom door. “Though I might consider getting it out right now.”_ _

__Derek retreated quickly behind Stiles’ door._ _

__Stiles was still face down on the bed in post-orgasm bliss._ _

__“Gotta run,” Derek said, grabbing his leather jacket. “Your dad might be getting out his shotgun.” He planted a sloppy kiss on Stiles’ shoulder and dumped the freshly laundered panties onto his back. Stiles grunted. “Don’t forget, hang them to dry,” he told Stiles. Derek wanted to make sure those panties were kept in good condition._ _

__Then he was out the window as fast as his werewolf ass could carry him._ _

__**_ _


End file.
